The Last Day 2: Final Hours
by Mister Nanook
Summary: Twelve years after the events of "The Last Day", Rigby finds himself in prison having a hard time getting closure. When an opportunity arises where it can finally be met, he and his only friend go out to make things right. They ruined his life; it's time for him to take theirs. Rated M for Blood and Gore, Intense Violence, Strong Language, and Strong Sexual Content.
1. Awakening

**AUTHOR'S NOTES: Well, well, well. I never expected a sequel to **_**The Last Day **_**to ever be made, let alone an official one. Times are changing, it seems and the one fanfic that I just wanted to forget about is the one that's receiving the most attention. Yeah, life goes into all sorts of crazy directions. This fanfic here is the long awaited follow up to my first fanfic and will be everything that the first one should have been! Journey with me into a tale where a murderer tries to find closure in the most unusual ways.**

**Before we begin, I would like to dedicate this story to GirlWithComputer. If it wasn't for her amazing story _Supposed to be a Secret_, I would've never got into this business in the first place. Thank you. Unfortunately, her account is now M.I.A., so I can only assume that she is dead. Rest in peace, GirlWithComputer. I will never forget you.**

_**Regular Show **_**and all related characters and elements are trademarks of and © Cartoon Network. I own nothing except for the story, plot, and any characters I created that may occur.**

**The use of firearms in this story is not an indication of promotion or endorsement for the guns themselves or their respective manufacturers.**

* * *

_**It's all about closure.**_

**AWAKENING**

The cold winds of the dark night blew furiously, causing the gates of the cemetery to clang loudly as they repeatedly shut. The rusted bars bearing massive amounts of rust only served to surround the overgrown grass inside containing the corpses buried underground marked by individual tombstones and crypts. Many spiders crawled on the tombstones where their spider webs reside. A small amount of garden snakes slithered along the many patches of tall grass. Several chairs from the previous scary movie night were scattered around the ground covered with dirt and scraps of the filers made to promote the event. Empty beer cans and vodka bottles were scattered across the vast opening of the graveyard, most of which were being blown away by the wind. Various crypts were vandalized with broken and some actually missing gates, and the others having walls adorned with graffiti.

One had the word _**RIGBY**_ sprayed on the side of the crypt. Another one had the sentence _**DIDNT KILL THEM ALL!**_ sprayed on the roof. The five tombstones nearby it had the letters _**R**_,_** I**_,_** G**_,_** B**_,and _**Y**_ tagged on them.

The entrance gate was opened. Enter psychopathic murderer Rigby. He doesn't like being identified as such, however. On his hands were four individual roses. He passed the various tombstones, getting a good look of the graffiti-laced ones. He shook his head in disappointment, embarrassed that he was now being labeled as such. It was a curse that he now had to live with for all of eternity. Even after his death, the label would still stick. Rigby looked up to the pitch black sky, noticing that there were very little stars above. Many gray clouds floated over and there was a full moon out tonight that glowed rather ominously amongst the darkness. Rigby didn't pay it any more attention and continued his stroll.

_**BuRN iN hELL RiGbY! **_

That tag he agreed with. Not so much the uneven capitalization.

_**fuck you bitch**_

He didn't know who this insult was directed towards, so he couldn't establish a proper opinion. It had nice handwriting, though.

_**DEAD PEOPLE ARE COOL**_

Rigby had no comment.

_**12 KILL STREAK! **_

Rigby chuckled dryly at the reference before shaking his head. He ignored all further distractions until he reached his destination. A snake slithered through his feet, hissing back at him. Rigby continued past, not being able to ignore a pack of four ravens flying past him from above. The birds actually served to lead him to his destination as they each landed on the four tombstones he was looking for. They were covered with dirt and various cracks with three of them missing entire chunks of stone. This was most likely the result of more vandals. Each tombstone bore a basic inscription.

**MITCH SORENSTEIN **

**HI-FIVE GHOST**

**BENSON**

**POPS MAELLARD**

Rigby placed each rose in front of each respective grave. Muscle Man's grave had the crass sentence "R.I.P. You fat fuck" etched on the dirt. Rigby erased it with his hand, patting it off.

"Hey, guys," he finally spoke. "It's been a while. I lost count of how many years it's been. Sorry." Rigby sighed. "Hey, about that day... Oh, geez what am I even doing? I bet you guys can't even hear me." He rubbed the back of his head nervously. "That day was a bad day for all of us. I just don't know what came over me! Mordecai just... No, I can't blame Mordecai for what happened. He did what he thought would be best for him. I should've supported him. He's my best friend, after all. But I decided to take a different road that day, and that's why you guys are here.

"You guys got the worst of it, obviously. I'm never going to be able to take back or make up for what I did. You guys didn't even deserve it. Mordecai was the one I was mad at. Gah, it doesn't even matter! I shouldn't have even come up with the idea of killing him or you guys! It wasn't until it was all over that I realized that. If Mordecai hadn't stopped me, I would be here with you guys..."

Rigby shed a tear. "...and I wouldn't mind. I'd deserve it. Goddamn it, I deserve to be dead! Not you guys! **I DO!**" he shrieked, slamming his fist to the dirt. One of the ravens flew away. "I'm the one who should be buried here! I should be here rotting away! All four of you should be up here instead of me!" Rigby fell to his knees, the tears around his eyes starting to fall. "Even though you guys can't hear me, I just want you to know that I'm sorry for everything." Another raven flew away, then another. "I'm so sorry," he whispered. Finally, the lone raven flapped away.

_**CRACK! **_And not a moment too soon as a lightning bolt that came seemingly out of nowhere struck the center of the four graves. Rigby fell backwards, shielding his eyes from the temporary bright light that followed. He reopened his eyes, noticing the bolt caused a small fire to start. The ground started to shake furiously as Rigby tried to keep his balance and figure out what was going on.

"What's happening?!" he said aloud. The closest thing he got to an answer was a coffin rising out of Muscle Man's grave. Another coffin albeit smaller pushed through the dirt and stood upright. That one belonged to Hi-Five Ghost. The coffin belonging to Benson would rise from its grave moments later, followed by Pops'. His coffin was custom-made to fit his enormous head. Rigby looked at the coffins, bewildered with what had happened right before his very eyes. He rubbed them gently just to make sure they weren't playing tricks on him. He didn't know what to do next, though. Should he leave? Should he open the coffins? Should he try burying them back? He took one step forward, weary of what's going to happen next.

With a loud, grating creak, Muscle Man's coffin opened. There, upon the upholstered interior laid the corpse of the green man. His flesh was close to rotting away entirely as it loosely hung to his body. The black suit and red bowtie that he was buried in matched the rest of the corpse: falling apart. The various head wounds that Rigby had inflicted upon him that day were in clear sight, with maggots burrowing into his skull. Worms and other parasites wiggled through his broken jaw. Muscle Man's eyes were missing, leaving only two empty sockets where numerous ants crawled through.

Another creak was heard and Hi-Five Ghost's small coffin opened. All that it contained were the liquefied remains of the ghost.

Benson's coffin opened next. His head was shattered, leaving only the rest of his body intact. Only twelve stale gumballs remained. His suit was in average condition. Since Benson didn't have any flesh or internal organs to speak of, his metallic body was nearly covered entirely with rust.

Finally, Pops' coffin opened. The flesh upon his head that was deep-fried many years ago was nearly gone as a huge, grinning skull was all that was left. One lone eyeball was left, while the other socket housed a dead mouse. Pops' black suit and tie were decrepit, along with his corpse. His hands were completely devoid of carrion.

"Uhhh," Rigby uttered, not knowing what to do. He took one step back, then another. Suddenly, Muscle Man's head snapped towards Rigby, along with Pops'. Benson's neck shifted forward, and Hi-Five Ghost's remains sprouted a face, as well as a hand. Muscle Man's eye sockets glowed red. Pops' lone eyeball spun around in its socket until it stopped, pointing towards Rigby.

"Oh my God," Rigby whispered.

_**GRRRAAAAAWWWWWL! **_Muscle Man growled. His loose jaw remained attached, but just barely. The dead green man stepped out of his creaking coffin. His glowing eyeholes stayed locked on the raccoon that took his life many years ago.

"AAAAHHHHH!" Rigby screamed, pointing at the walking corpse. "ZOMBIE!"

_**Not cool, bro, **_Muscle Man said with a distorted voice. _**COME HERE!**_

A ghastly moan joined as the ectoplasm remains of Hi-Five Ghost left his tiny coffin. He pointed his finger towards the raccoon. _**You killed meeeeeeee...**_

"Get away from me!" Rigby warned, stepping back.

Benson's corpse hopped out of its coffin, nearly tripping over. The headless body swatted blindly at the air and stumbled around finding something to grab onto. He walked with a limp; a result of Rigby breaking all of his limbs that fateful day.

_**Bad show. **_Another distorted voice said._** Bad, bad show. **_Pops took his first steps out of his coffin. His lone eye was the only thing guiding him in the right direction. He pulled the dead rat out of his eye socket, letting it fall to the ground. Its belly soon opened, revealing many maggots crawling among its rotten carcass. Pops turned towards his killer. He laughed. _**Hello, Rigby. Nice day today, isn't it? **_Pops' chilling smile that only consisted of his bare skull and several scraps of rotten skin caused Rigby to shriek once again.

Rigby turned around and ran, screaming as he does it. Two more corpses appeared from the side of a crypt. It was Officer Remy and Officer Bob; the officers Rigby had murdered at the house that day. Bob's rotting intestines hung from his lacerated stomach, with many worms slipping out and hitting the ground. Remy opened his mouth, revealing a hole in the back of his throat. Both officers had ghoulish gray skin and carrion.

_**FREEZE!**_

_**You're under arrest, maniac!**_

"Oh, crap!" Rigby cursed, turning a corner towards the east side of the cemetery. A hand burst out of another grave and a vandal carrying a can of spray-paint crawled out. A gaping axe wound made him unable to stand. Instead, he crawled towards Rigby. The raccoon made another turn.

_**HELP ME! **_A voice screamed. Rigby cocked his head back, noticing a man carrying his own head in his arms. _**That raccoon did this!**_

"Wait, no!" Rigby didn't have to wait much longer before encountering another lost soul. A woman stepped out of the shadows, her throat bearing several punctures caused by scissors. A spider, maggots, and many ants crawled around the dead woman's putrid throat. Rigby was running out of directions to run to. He decided to take higher ground, climbing on top of a crypt where he could see the corpses of his former friends hurrying towards him. Benson held Pops' hand for assistance.

"This can't be real," Rigby said. "This can't be real!" A cold hand grabbed his leg, causing him to fall forward. Rigby turned back, finding a man in a police uniform inching his way towards him. The man had a gunshot wound on his forehead.

_**Where do you think you're going, tough guy? **_he said. Rigby kicked him in the face, knocking him off the roof of the crypt. He landed on another officer with two bullet holes where his heart should be. Both fell down like bowling pins. Rigby finally got a chance to breathe before yet another officer grabbed him from behind, pulling him down from the roof.

"Let me go!" Rigby demanded. "Get off of me!" The officer stuck his fingers into the raccoon's mouth to shut him up. Rigby responded by biting them off. The zombie officer grunted in pain and pulled his hand away. Rigby spat the spoiled fingers out of his mouth. Back on his feet, he made two more turns around the cemetery before spotting the front gates. A glimmer of hope was starting to show as Rigby continued to sprint.

"Yes!" he cheered. "Almost there!" He continued running as fast as he could, never daring to look back at his pursuers. The gate gradually got closer and closer, almost reaching his goal. Rigby decided to take one look back just to make sure he was in the clear. To his surprise, no one was chasing him.

_Where did they go? _he thought to himself. Granted, he didn't want to be chased around, but the fact that none of the walking corpses he encountered moments ago were in sight struck him as odd. Rigby turned back around.

"**GRRAGGHH!**" he managed to let out as a huge figure grabbed him by the throat. Rigby looked down to his attacker and saw none other than Skips the yeti. His body was covered with numerous scars where Rigby had chopped his body apart with an axe.

"You shouldn't have done what you did that day," the yeti said. Unlike the other beasts Rigby encountered, Skips spoke in his regular voice. "Now it is time to repent." Skips grasped Rigby's right arm and tore it off with ease. Rigby's pained screams were blocked by the yeti's fist constricting his windpipe. He dropped Rigby to the ground.

"Oh, God!" Rigby cried, feeling his bloody stump where his arm used to be. He felt another tug, this time from his left arm, followed by another sensation of pain. He turned to see his fingers being eaten by Officer Bob. Remy got a hold of Rigby's left foot while Muscle Man held Rigby in a headlock, nibbling on his ear while he does it. "**NO! LET ME GO!**" Rigby pleaded. Soon, all the decaying corpses of the people he killed circled around him. They knelled over and placed their hands on Rigby's chest. With fierce pinches, they ripped his chest from his body, exposing his rib cage cradling his insides. Pops, the vandal, and Bob broke open Rigby's rib cage, exposing his beating heart and lungs. Not wanting to waste any time, Pops bit down on the beating muscle, causing a massive amount of blood to erupt. The woman leaned in closer and licked the fountain of blood that was spurting out of the bitten heart. All throughout this, Rigby could feel everything.

Two of the officers tore more of the raccoon's torso open. His stomach was now fully opened, his small and large intestines being touched by the dead lawmen. They didn't even try to remove them from his body, instead choosing to gnaw on his intestines like beef jerky. Muscle Man ripped the remainder of Rigby's heart out and took a massive bite out of it. The blood splattered over Rigby's face as he watched himself be dismembered. The vandal took a kidney out of the raccoon and put it in his mouth, swallowing it whole. Rigby's lungs were being feasted on by the zombie police officers. They soon departed with the removed lungs in tow. Benson removed Rigby's stomach as the man holding his own head assisted in biting away the esophagus. Benson held the severed stomach in his hands before slicing it open with the glass shards that remained on his smashed dome. The enzymes and stomach acid spilled all over him, but he couldn't care less. He slammed the stomach to the ground and stomped it furiously.

Benson soon stumbled away. The man with the severed head and the woman chewing on Rigby's small intestine soon followed suit. Muscle Man used his strength to tear Rigby's head off. He bit the raccoon's nose off and spiked his head to the dirt.

_**WOOOOOOOO! **_Muscle Man took his suit jacket and shirt off, twirling them in the air. He then ran off to his coffin. Hi-Five Ghost chased after him, carrying Rigby's leg in his arm. Rigby was still conscious and in tremendous pain. He found that he couldn't even scream throughout the dissection of his body.

Skips walked up to him. Rigby looked up. "This will happen every night until you finally die," he said. "Put your body into ours. Feel the pain that we suffered. Blood must be repaid with blood." Skips picked up Rigby's dismembered carcass and carried it over his shoulder. He began to walk away towards the gate, until he turned around one last time.

"Only then will you get closure." Rigby shut his eyes, hoping that this episode would end. The sound of the gate creaking open and then shutting were the last things he heard.

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**AUTHOR'S NOTES: Did you enjoy that? Because if you did, there's plenty more in store! If you didn't enjoy it, write me a review saying why. I'm open to all types of feedback, unlike _other _people who demand nice reviews and nothing else. Click that "Follow Story" button right now to never miss a second of this story! For even more action, click "Follow Author" to get access to everything Nanook!  
**

**Well, what are you waiting for?! Do it! Until next time, people.**

_**Despite Rigby being my favorite character, it doesn't pain me to write him being torn apart. I guess I'm just that sick.  
-Mister Nanook**_


	2. Playing the Part

_**The saga continues.**_

**PLAYING THE PART**

It happened again.

Rigby slowly opened his eyes. Various vertical beams of dim light from the front of him were the only source of lighting. He scanned his eyes left and right. There was nothing to see but gray stone walls with a matching ceiling. A thin blanket covered his body and a soft pillow was rested behind his head. Rigby lifted his head to find himself back in his bunk bed. He then bobbed his head forward, getting a look at the cell doors he had grown accustomed to over the past twelve years.

It was another nightmare. Rigby was conflicted on whether or not it was a relief that he's still alive. He laid his head on the pillow once more before finally sitting up. Ultimately, Rigby took a deep breath, thankful to finally be awake. From below him, he heard several quiet rhythmic grunts from below his bunk.

"Hey, you awake yet?"

"Yeah." Rigby nodded, looking down to see his cellmate doing stomach crunches on the floor. Rigby looked out the cell door. His cell was placed on the second floor of the D Block. The prison he currently resided was Dust Hill Penitentiary; a large, spacious maximum security prison located in South Phoenix, Arizona. Due to deceptive tactics and cover-ups, along with subsequent discoveries, Rigby landed himself in death row.

The massacre at the park was biggest news story that year, with every media and social outlet covering the incident. A person couldn't pick up a newspaper or magazine without seeing Rigby's disheveled face on the cover. The overexposure soon escalated this incident from a local tragedy to a national tragedy. Many questions concerning mistreatment, pay issues, and mental health were raised, but Mordecai's lawyer advised him to not partake in any interviews with the press.

Rigby's lawyer, on the other hand was a scheming man by the name of Lawrence Finch. A man with six years of experience under his belt, Finch used the shattered psyche of his clients to his advantage. When he was assigned to be Rigby's lawyer, he was ecstatic. Defending a murderer like him could skyrocket him to fame, he thought at the time. One day, he and Rigby discussed a game plan of sorts from the many times they kept in contact.

"So let's try this from a different angle," he said, adjusting his plaid tie. "If the judge asks you 'how do you plead', how will you respond?"

"Guilty," Rigby replied. His handcuffs had been removed by request as he and Lawrence were left alone in an interview room at the City Police Station, where he was being held until his trial the next week. Rigby sat up on his chair as he spoke. Finch sat on the flimsy wooden table in front of him.

"Wrong answer," Lawrence said, slowly "You have just been given a golden opportunity to get away from a regular prison. You feel me?" He lit a cigarette. "See, from what you've told me, there was some sort of voice or whatever the hell that was telling you to kill those people, right?"

"I... uh..."

"You told me four days ago." Lawrence puffed his cigarette.

"Yeah, yeah," Rigby said, absent-minded.

"So when did these voices come up?"

"Right when the police officers went to the house."

"Wrong answer again," Lawrence said. "This little 'voice' of yours is your ticket to getting out of a hellhole." He took a long toke from his cigarette. "You know what they're gonna slap you with? Do you?" He didn't wait for a response, continuing with "A spree killer like you is looking at life in prison. And you killed some cops, too. You know what they do to cop killers in jail? They are going to spray you with a hose anytime they want! They're gonna haze your ass anytime they get the chance. They don't take lightly to killers that murder their own kind; I'll let you know right now! They are gonna have a field day with your ass!" Lawrence concluded by snubbing out his cigarette on the ashtray aside him.

"You get it now?" Lawrence started to light another cigarette. Rigby nodded. After puffing it several times, he said, "Good. Now listen, I think we can probably fool everyone into thinking you're schizophrenic if you play the part right."

"'Play the part'?" Rigby said. "What do you mean?"

"Christ, do I have to hold your hand during this whole thing?" Lawrence replied with anger in his voice. "When we go to court that day, you need to act like you're out of it, and I mean _out of it_. I'm talking about using your hands as finger puppets, staring at people blankly with glossy eyes, talking to yourself, scratching your head and telling the voices to go away – The whole frickin' enchilada! Now do you get me; have I finally hit the nail on the goddamn head?"

Rigby stared at his lawyer with a look of bewilderment. What he seriously suggesting this? Rigby knows that he has no mental problems. What Lawrence is trying to paint as a schizophrenic spree killer who only followed the orders of the voices that spoke to him was far from the truth. Rigby planned it all out. Rigby had his own motives. Rigby was in complete control.

But Lawrence had different plans.

"So you're saying," Rigby said, rather slowly, "that I should fake being crazy?"

Lawrence clapped his hands once. "Now he gets it!" he cheered with a smile. Rigby shook his head and turned away from him. "Oh, come on, now listen to me. Just listen to me real quick." Rigby turned back. "Look, I'm doing this because I'm looking out for you. I'm sure you know you're a pretty small guy. The inmates at the penitentiary are gonna have a ball with your short self. Alright, I'm doing this because I care! Trust me: you'd be better off at a mental hospital. You'd have nice, soft clothes. You can watch TV or play cards. Get all the free sleep aids you want. I'm telling ya; it's much better than a maximum security prison, which is what you're going to be put into unless you listen to me.

"I already have a contact taking care of everything else. That little notebook detailing your plan for that day? Gone. Kaput! Burnt to a crisp. No one is getting their hands on those ashes! Furthermore, your little friend Mordecai is not speaking to anybody about you. I slip his lawyer a couple of hundred-dollar bills in a paper bag; I'll have him stay far away from the courthouse! And if that doesn't work, I'll have a hitman stake his house and make sure he doesn't talk. That mole girlfriend of yours isn't going anywhere, either when I—"

"Wait, wait, wait," Rigby interrupted. "You're not gonna hurt them, are you?"

"Only if they refuse to play ball," Lawrence said. He took another toke from his cigarette.

"Wait, I don't want that!"

"I'm afraid you don't have much of a choice, alright? You know how much people I've had to pay off to save your ass from being fucked? I already got guys out there that are going to make sure they don't show up at the courthouse that day. The blue jay and his girlfriend, as well as your girlfriend are not going to show up to give their testimonies. They will not testify against you, and you will not go to prison. Easy as that!"

"But that's not fair!"

"That's the price of doing business, buddy. I mean, I don't condone your little episode, but you left waaaaaaay too many loose ends. You know that gorilla you chopped up? Turns out he's still alive! Yeah, apparently he's immortal, so I can't touch him. Besides, he has _nothing_ on you. He was just a victim."

Rigby frowned. He was relieved to hear that Skips was alive, but all this talk of men watching over his friends to make sure they don't talk was very upsetting.

"Hey, come on now," Lawrence said. "This is good! We can pull this off! You play the part of the insane killer driven to kill by the voices and the jury will absolutely eat it up. They'll have no choice but to declare you guilty by reason of insanity. After that, you're good!" He gave Rigby two thumbs-up for good measure. Rigby still wasn't convinced.

Lawrence sighed angrily at Rigby's negativity. He dropped the cigarette to the floor, stomping on it with a scowl. "Listen to me. Are you listening? Hello? Excuse me." Rigby nodded, staring daggers back at him. "I'm doing this for you because I care, alright? I'm here to save your ass from the inevitable suffering that you are guaranteed to go through if you don't play along. You? You have _nothing_ to offer them. No bargaining chips. No sympathy. They are going to throw the _book_ at you. There's no death penalty is this state, so you won't even get the luxury knowing it's going to end soon. You're pretty much gonna be fed to the sharks, _unless _you take my advice and go with it."

Rigby sighed. He didn't want to admit it, but many of the things Lawrence pointed out had ounces of truth behind them. Rigby knew he wasn't the biggest or toughest guy around, and he definitely wasn't the smartest. Being thrown into prison is pretty much the equivalent to being thrown into a tank full of sharks.

"Well?" Lawrence pulled another cigarette from his shirt pocket. He put the tobacco stick to his lips.

Rigby bit his lip and sighed again. "I'll do it," he said, defeated.

Lawrence was in the process of lighting his cigarette until he heard the good news. He smiled with glee, knowing that he got what he wanted. With a chuckle, he said "I knew you'd see the light." He finally lit the cigarette. "Now this is what we're gonna do, and you have to exactly what I say and I guarantee you that everything will be fine."

The courthouse was frenzy that day. News reporters scrambled around the outside steps of the building hoping to get a word from the accused. Rigby was escorted inside by four police officers. He was handcuffed and wore an untidy sky blue dress shirt and a loose cobalt tie. Rigby had his hands cuffed and his legs shackled. The raccoon has staged an "insanity-driven outburst" at the request of his lawyer. That little episode caused Rigby to be more restrained than necessary. Lawrence Finch was walking with him, lashing out at any reporters wanting a word from his client.

"No comment," was his frequent answer to the barrage of questions the reporters hounded him with. Others he simply waved off until they reached the courtroom. It was filled to the brim, with many people standing aside the walls of the room due to lack of seating. All the jury members were seated and the judge made his way to the courtroom several minutes after Rigby entered. The only eyewitnesses for this trial were various police officers, a male parkgoer who stumbled out of the bathroom to witness the massacre from a distance, and Skips the yeti. His body had been put back together by expert surgeons and mended back with the help of the Guardians of Eternal Youth. His massive body was covered with many stitches and heavy-duty staples. He couldn't walk, let alone skip so he had to use a wheelchair for mobility.

When asked how he pleads, Rigby said, "Not guilty by reason of _aweeeeeeeeesome!_" Finch soon clarified that his client, Rigby is not guilty by reason of insanity, declaring that he was not responsible for his actions that day due to his mental health. The jury whispered amongst each other, intrigued by the false information presented to them. Rigby and his attorney took their seats.

Mordecai, Margaret, and Eileen were nowhere to be found in the courthouse. Finch smiled at his work; everything was going according to plan.

Skips was called to the stand. He spoke quite a bit about his relationship with Rigby and their responsibilities at the park before moving on to the events that lead to the massacre. He mentioned his last meeting with Rigby prior to his attack, admitting that there were no signs of the raccoon planning anything. He also brought up the fact that he had grown more depressed over the years due to Mordecai's bullying. Skips was hesitant to admit that when he was attacked by Rigby that day, he saw a completely new side of him. He caved immediately and said it to the jury. Finch smiled for a millisecond while Rigby stared blankly at the wall, playing his role.

The lone witness that watched the massacre from afar was brought to the stand next. Unfortunately, he was of little help, only able to talk about where the raccoon went and the officers he shot; all information that had been gathered before. He did, however mention a moment where he overheard the raccoon "talking to his mind". Lawrence had to resist the urge to cheer and shake the man's hand at that moment. Needless to say, he was pleased.

Finally, Rigby was brought to the stand. Lawrence asked Rigby a series of pre-planned questions that they had rehearsed the other day. All Rigby had to do was answer dishonestly.

"How often did you hear these voices in your head?"

"Did you often have violent fantasies?"

"Did you ever see a therapist?"

"What caused you to finally 'lose it' and let these homicidal thoughts out?"

"Could you explain in detail what your mindset was that day?"

The questions kept coming and the responses followed. The jury ate it all up. They legitimately believed that Rigby was mentally ill! He played the part so well, he even fooled himself! He was born for the role, and Lawrence couldn't be more pleased. He had done it.

It was then time for the verdict. The jury did just what Lawrence desired and found him not guilty by reason of insanity. Rigby was sentenced to be confined in St. Elmo's Hospital for the Criminally Insane located thirty miles from the city. The facility was a large, modern three-story rectangular building with over five hundred patients within.

Rigby's first day was jarring for him, but he eventually settled in. It was bizarre place to be, he recalled. Despite the name of the place, it wasn't so much a hospital as it was a prison with a euphemism. Nonetheless, he found the pale blue walls and white marble tile floors to be relaxing. Rigby would spend around six-to-eight hours in his room on the second floor. His room contained one bed, a barricaded window, and a steel desk with the drawers removed. It was really boring, but Rigby felt that he deserved it. He kept reminding himself that it could be worse, according to Lawrence. Rigby received many medications that he didn't need and spent a majority of his time playing cards and board games, watching TV, and talking to his peers in the hospital. Some of the other patients were frightened to be near the raccoon's presence, being aware of the atrocities that he performed. He received psychological evaluations biweekly and always managed to evade detection from the doctors of him feigning his metal problems, continuing to play the role he was given. He pulled it off with flying colors, using the various movies and video games he's played as influences for his acting "job". Other than the sheer boredom of being confined, he lived his days in peace; all thanks to Lawrence Finch's ingenious plan. Four-and-a-half months later, Rigby was transferred to West Tucson Psychiatric Ward in Tucson, Arizona due to a machine error. Rigby still lived his days in solitude without a worry in the world.

* * *

But then disaster reared its ugly head. Ten months after Rigby's incarceration, a police sting in Las Vegas, Nevada occurred where an undercover LVMPD police officer under the guise of a black market arms dealer met with an associate and close friend of Finch. Both had connections to five extortion rackets across Las Vegas, New Mexico, and Arizona. The two had travelled to Las Vegas that weekend to meet with the undercover cop with a "business proposition" that ended with the associate's arrest. The man's name was Oliver Tuckett. He was a balding man, age fifty six with a long history with the Italian and Russian mobs that ran those rackets. He faced charges of extortion, larceny, and sixteen counts of accessory to homicide that landed him with a possible 70-year prison sentence. In a moment of sheer panic, Oliver blurted out "The raccoon isn't insane!" during an interrogation. When the officer in the room asked him to clarify, he offered a plea bargain: he'd plead guilty to these crimes, but would offer the officers a huge nugget of information pertaining to the biggest massacre from ten months ago in City for a lighter sentence.

Finch was arrested an hour later trying to flee the city from a stolen vehicle within the Las Vegas Strip. The officers of the Las Vegas Metropolitan Police Department informed him of his friend's confession. Lawrence denied the accusations at first, calling Oliver an "Old drunk who couldn't tell his son from his barber!" Two hours of a tense interrogation finally got the truth out of him as he told the police everything. That Rigby was faking being insane by his insistence, that he had men keep tabs on three of his friends so they couldn't testify, destroyed any evidence that could prove Rigby's massacre was premeditated, as well as his actions revolving the extortion rackets, including how many men were on his payroll. Perjury, witness intimidation, tampering of evidence, extortion, larceny, and numerous other criminal charges landed Lawrence with a 110-year prison sentence.

It wasn't over. After word got out of Finch's arrest and his role in the Park massacre case, Rigby's face was once again all over the newspapers and televisions across the nation. Due to public outcry and new details about the case that have surfaced since then, a new trial was announced and was to be held in two weeks at the Arizona Superior Court.

This time there were no smoke and mirrors and Rigby sat in the courtroom handcuffed and without an excuse. Rigby plead "not guilty" and the trial went underway. Due to the neglect of the previous case involving the Insanity Defense Reform Act of 1984, expert psychologists were brought in to examine Rigby and his mental health. As expected, they found no irregularities and diagnosed him as not legally schizophrenic. This was a crushing blow for Rigby, but the worst arrived when Mordecai, Margaret, and Eileen were flown to Arizona to testify against him. Margaret swore under oath that Rigby is not insane, nor does he suffer from any psychological problems. She couldn't provide concrete evidence of Rigby's plans that day as she assumed that he was spree killing because he was "in the moment", but Mordecai shed more light into the situation. He told the court about the pictures of himself that Rigby had put knives through and drawn blood on with red marker. The biggest piece of evidence was the notebook detailing Rigby's whole plan that day. While the book itself was destroyed thanks to Lawrence Finch's meddling, Mordecai tore off two pages of the book and kept them crumbled up in his fanny pack that day. He intended to present them as evidence for the first trial, but was barred from doing so by his lawyer, who had been bribed the previous day by Finch. The two pages were the crude sketches diagramming the future murders of the park workers and the planned torture of Mordecai once the deeds were done.

Eileen was brought to the stand afterwards and let the court know that Rigby was the sweetest raccoon she ever knew, but that he was not the insane psychopath that he portrays himself as. She detailed her relationship with the raccoon, including their romantic life together. "Rigby isn't a killer; he's just a misunderstood creature that was going through a tough time," she said. Her former lover cringed at that remark. She then presented the note that Rigby wrote her prior to him leaving her apartment the day of the incident. To her, it was a final love note, but for this case it was another reminder that Rigby was in complete control that day. She mouthed "I'm sorry" to Rigby when she left the stand.

Rigby was finally brought to the stand. Without anything left for him to lose, he confessed everything.

"Mordecai was my best friend for over twenty years, until out of nowhere he took a job promotion from our boss, Benson! We had a fight and he decided that he didn't want to be my bro anymore. The next three years he made my life hell just because he could and Benson didn't do a thing to stop him! Then one day I finally had enough and drew up a bunch of stuff to kill everyone I worked with for never helping me with dealing with Mordecai and I did it. I killed all those people! I killed Benson! I killed Pops, I killed Muscle Man, I killed Hi-Five Ghost, I killed those cops, and I should've killed _you_, Mordecai!" Rigby leapt from the stand and sprinted towards Mordecai, but didn't get far as he was restrained by two bailiffs. The judge called for order as the courthouse was clamoring in the heat of the moment. Rigby was handcuffed once again and restrained until the jury returned with their verdict.

One minute later, the jury entered the courtroom with their verdict.

"Have the jury reached a verdict?" the judge asked.

"We have, your honor," the foreman said. He handed the judge a slip of paper. He opened it, glanced over it for a moment, and then closed it.

"And what is your verdict?"

"We, the jury find the defendant Rigby Riggerson guilty of all charges."

Many gasps were let out upon the result. Rigby nearly fainted. He was helped up by his public defender and a bailiff. Rigby was asked to step forward. He slowly walked towards the judge, looking up at him from below.

"Rigby Riggerson. For the crime of first and second-degree murder, as well as perjury, I hereby sentence you to death by lethal injection. You will be held in Dust Hill Penitentiary until the day of your execution." The judged banged his gavel. Rigby turned around, foolishly attempting to escape the courtroom. He only got a far as two feet before he was stopped by the bailiff that helped him to his feet. Rigby struggled to escape his grasp, but another bailiff joined, grabbing Rigby by his tiny legs. Rigby was taken away kicking and screaming to the police transport unit waiting outside. A river of reporters and press people were waiting outside, all of whom heard the verdict. Many pictures were taken of the restrained raccoon and video cameras from many news channels were recording the scene. Rigby was placed in the back of the transport unit. Two officers were inside waiting for him. Some camerapeople managed to get one more glimpse of Rigby before the doors were shut. The vehicle drove away, leaving the curious reporters in the dust. Rigby was on his way to his new home for the rest of his life until his death.

* * *

"What, another nightmare?"

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES: If you haven't followed me on Twitter yet, SHAME ON YOU!**

**Also, if you haven't followed me on Twitter, you missed the news of my brand-new poll! Just go to my profile page to find it and place your vote. The poll ends at the end of the month and only one vote allowed per person. Go now! Nanook out.**

_**That's the only nightmare sequence this story will have, I swear!  
-Mister Nanook**_


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